


Hunters of Durin

by aldendraco



Series: The World of the Hunters [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, F/M, M/M, Monster Hunters, Multi, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampire Hunters, Werewolf Hunters, alternative universe, basically just a monster hunting au because i'm too deep over this kind of stuff, various monsters from various myths will be mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 22:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15496143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldendraco/pseuds/aldendraco
Summary: In a world full of monsters and magic, Bilbo Baggins finds himself abandoning his quiet, pleasant life to become a Hunter and help a guild of stray dwarven Hunters stand up against the great Dragonmaster Smaug and take back what's rightfully theirs. But not everything is just as it seems, and along the way he will uncover secrets that could destroy him -and all of Middle-Earth.





	1. A Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> HEEEYO here I am with another Hobbit story! This one is actually a big project of mine I've been working on for a few months, but didn't have time to write since I was neck-deep in exam shit up until June, and then I wanted to go back to my primary project, Wrath of the Heavens (Pokemon Conquest, posted on FF). However I was finally able to sit down and write the first chapter, which I'm actually kinda proud of. I certainly hope you guys enjoy it, because it's gonna get so much wilder! I cannot wait to work into it!~ 
> 
> So without further ado, here goes the first chapter!

**Chapter 1:**

 

_ A beautiful day _ . 

 

That was the first thing that passed through the mind of Bilbo Baggins when, in the morning of that fateful summer day of the year 2941 Third Age, and set off towards the Shire’s library.. There was not a single cloud marring the endless blue canopy of the sky, the wind carried a wild symphony of birdsong and a pleasant breeze blew softly from the west towards the nearby river. That it was indeed a very beautiful day, and that he was such a lucky Hobbit to be able to enjoy it in the relatively peaceful area of the Shire; that he was not some poor Hunter, having to spend all his days chasing vampires and orcs and whatnot without a moment to spare to enjoy the simple things in life. 

 

Not that Bilbo held any disrespect for Hunters; gods no, that would not befit a Hobbit of his upbringing. Quite the contrary, actually; his respect for the Hunters was even greater than that of the next person, and he admired their strength and courage. He had grown up fond of the stories of the adventures and deeds done by famous Hunters such as those of Glorfindel the Galant or Beren the Brave. Bilbo simply harboured enough self-awareness to know that he would never be able to take up such a lifestyle. He was no braver than the next Hobbit and while he certainly couldn’t be called a coward, he was entirely certain that he would make quite a sorry Hunter.

 

Fortunately enough, he or any other resident of the Shire didn’t need trouble their little heads with such worries. The Shire was such a lucky area, falling under the protection of a few nearby Havens -official guilds teeming with Hunters that would keep all the evils of the world away as long as the Hobbits were able to sustain them by sending them portions of their crops. It was a really fair deal, really; the Hunters were required to pour all their strength and attention onto fighting away the Spawns of Morgoth, so they had to rely to external sources when it came to their sustainment. And since the Hobbits weren’t at all equipped to fight, it was a perfect match. They kept the Hunters’ stomachs full as well as their own, and in exchange the Hunters let no ill creature even take whiff towards the direction of the Shire.

 

Of course, not all the Hobbits were farmers and stockbreeders. A good number of them dealt with the Shire’s finances, or kept inns and small taverns, or ran the local library. That last job was Bilbo’s duty -one that he was proud to have inherited from his father. The library of the Shire had been passed down by Baggins to Baggins ever since practically the beginning of time and it was stocked to the brim with all kinds of wondrous texts and tomes and parchments that could be found nowhere else in all of Middle-Earth. Stories from before the Hobbits or Men came around; stories listing the names and deeds of various Hunters; entire academic researches referring to the history of the Hunt and how the Children of Illuvatar came face to face with the Spawns of Morgoth. Tales that may be truth as well as myth from the First and Second Ages. Truly the library often invited the interest of Hunters and civilians alike from every corner of the land, and it was Bilbo’s pride and joy. 

 

Ah yes, Bilbo Baggins of Bag-end indeed enjoyed working in his library. So that fateful day he did as he would have done any other. Fishing the heavy copper key from the pocket of his forest-green velvet jacket, and pushed open the old oaken door. He broke into a short fit of coughing and sneezing as a cloud of dust hit him right in the face -for all the love he held for the library, it was quite impossible to clean of all the dust that had filled every little crack and crevice all those years. Some things, Bilbo just had to live with even if he didn’t like them.

 

Like any other day, Bilbo sat down behind the little desk that adorned the library’s furthest corner. Tucked in between two stacks of books and tomes that reached the wooden ceiling, the desk felt like his little personal nest. He placed his lunchbox over to one side and turned in a new page to his notebook then made sure his quill was full of ink. With that set and done he leaned back into his chair, and waited with more than just a little excitement for the day’s first visitor. 

 

Through the twenty-four years that Bilbo had worked as the librarian, his eyes had seen many things; Hunters from near and far, Men, Faeries -even a few Elves and Dwarves from time to time. As such, he was usually prepared for everything. 

 

Or as it was soon to be proven, well… almost everything. 

 

Because of all the things that could have crossed his doorstep, the one that Bilbo had least expected was an old man with a tattered grey cloak, a long and untrimmed ashen beard and a huge pointy hat that barely fit to pass under the door and that had certainly seen better days.

 

The peculiarly dressed stranger didn’t seem to mind Bilbo’s surprised expression, however, and walked straight in towards the Hobbit’s desk wearing a polite smile on his wrinkled face.

 

“Good morning.” the old man said. “May I speak to Bilbo Baggins?”

 

“G-Good day to you, sir.” Bilbo replied after another moment’s shock, and belatedly got to his feet to attend to his visitor. “You are in fact speaking to him already. I am Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

 

At those words the old man grinned, an action that lit up his deep blue eyes.

 

“Well then that’s excellent.” He placed a hand atop Bilbo’s shoulder -which was quite terrifying really, considering he was about twice as tall as Bilbo was. “Let me introduce -or to be honest reintroduce- myself; I am Gandalf. And I’ve come to ask a favour of you.”

 

Bilbo felt his jaw dropping, even before the “favour” part of the old man’s words was registered into his mind.

 

“G-Gandalf?” He managed,still unable to fully process the fact that the man was there. “Gandalf the Grey? Oh my goodness, the Gandalf who made such amazing fireworks during the celebrations of midsummer’s eve?! I cannot believe this!” 

 

Gandalf let out a quiet yet hearty chuckle as he beheld Bilbo’s enthusiasm. Despite his previous fears, it seemed that at least a small part of the once quite adventurous little Hobbit was still there under the well-pressed guise of adulthood. Maybe what he had to ask of him would come a little easier than imagined, then…

 

“You said you wanted to ask for a favour, yes?” Bilbo brought up the subject by himself, still fairly excited to be seeing the man that was essentially one of his childhood heroes again. “How could I oblige?”

 

“A, yes, that favour…” Gandalf let his eyes roam the room for a few seconds, wondering which would be the best way to voice this. “My dear Bilbo, I’m looking for someone to join me in a Haven.”

 

And at the sound of Gandalf’s last six words, the smile was completely wiped off of Bilbo’s face in a heartbeat. The Hobbit’s chestnut eyes darknened as he furrowed his brows, taking an involuntary step backwards as if he was under the impression that Gandalf was going to grab him by the neck. 

 

“A-A Haven? I am sorry, but this is the Shire and you are standing in Hobbiton of all places.” All of Bilbo’s good humour from the past few minutes was entirely extinguished. “I’m afraid I cannot oblige, and neither can anyone else. We are farmers, not fighters -certainly not Hunters.” 

 

Bilbo had almost expected the Wizard -because he had not, for a moment, forgotten that Gandalf was indeed a Wizard- would be furious thanks to both his refusal and his quite rude way of voicing it. However, the old man only seemed a little disappointed as he offered his reply.

 

“Very well, then…” He said, letting out a tired sigh as he turned back towards the door, already preparing to leave. “I suppose I will have to look elsewhere. It certainly is a pity, though; your mother would have been seized the chance with no regards to her Hobbitish nature…”

 

Bilbo felt as if a lightning had struck him right on top of the head and left him there, frozen and unable to speak or move. His mouth opened in a shocked ‘o’, before he finally regained enough control of himself to snap it shut and spring into action.

 

“My mother?” he was already bolting behind Gandalf as fast as he could. “What do you know about her?”

 

Bilbo barely remembered his mother. Belladona Took had left the world of the living when Bilbo was not even five years old, and all he could recall of her was no more than her rich black hair, and her glinting green eyes. No voice, no character of her remained in Bilbo’s memory, and he had grown up alone with his father. According to Bungo Baggins, Belladona had lost her life to a rogue Hunter that had been possessed by an evil spirit and had managed to infiltrate the Shire before he was eventually brought down by some actual Hunters from the Rivendell Haven. But by then, he had already claimed the lives of five Hobbits, and Belladona was among them. 

 

There were of course some things that Bilbo had to admit didn’t add up to the story. His father always spoke about Belladona with love and grief, but sometimes Bilbo would overhear the neighbours curse her and her foolishness, and Bungo would agree with a heavy heart that she wasn’t right in the head, for all she did before her death wasn’t Hobbit-like at all. 

 

But even so… what could his mother have to do with all of this Haven business? And why would Gandalf mention her here of all places, now of all times?

 

As those thoughts passed through Bilbo’s mind, Gandalf turned to him with sad, heavy eyes.

 

“I know more about your mother than most people in Hobbiton would ever dream about.” He said quietly. “But those aren’t my secrets to share, and since you aren’t willing to join the Haven I’m referring to, then I’m afraid I cannot tell you more about it. Good day, Bilbo Baggins. I hope one day you find what you’re looking for in life.”

 

And with that, Gandalf was out of the little library. Bilbo lost no time and immediately ran out after him, but by the time he was also out, Gandalf was already far away down the cobble-coated path, his pointy grey hat bobbing slightly atop his head as he walked. 

 

Gandalf the Grey had gone on with his way, leaving Bilbo behind and more confused and upset than ever. 

 

**~*The Hunters of Durin*~**

 

The rest of the day went by uneventfully, but to Bilbo it was no longer as beautiful as it had seemed that morning, which already felt like it had happened ages ago, to someone else. He sat by his little desk and ate his dinner without the usual enthusiasm that a Hobbit would suggest, Gandalf’s words still bouncing around inside his skull like angry trapped butterflies. 

 

He barely looked up from his notebook (inside of which he’d been absentmindedly scribbling for the past fourty minutes) when Hamfast Gamgee, one of his dearest friends, knocked gently on the door of the library and walked in. 

 

“Hello Bilbo!” He greeted cheerfully, tucking his hat under his arm and wiping a layer of sweat off his forehead. “Lazy day today, huh?” 

 

‘So I would have wished’, Bilbo thought to himself, but nonetheless he forced a smile to his face. 

 

“Good to see you Hamfast. I suppose you’re right indeed, it’s been rather blunt so far”. That wasn’t true, but for some reason Bilbo felt he had better keep his meeting with Gandalf to himself for now. 

“Well I’ve got great news for you in this case.” Hamfast said, as he took out a folded letter out of the pocket of his overalls. “This came in less than an hour ago -apparently there are some young Hunters in the Green Dragon inn over at Bree that need one of your books for an...assignment, it would seem.”

 

Bilbo nodded and accepted the letter, skimming through it with a trained eye.

 

“‘History of the Havens’, huh. They must be beginners or trainees, then.” He concluded, already diving head-first into the nearest pile of books to look for the requested one. By now he knew the place of every manuscript in his library better than he knew the back of his own hand. It wasn’t long till he found the book, and packed into a leather bag fit for carrying such a heavy load all the way to Bree. “Will you take it to Bree for me, Hamfast? Payment will be no less than usual, of course.” 

 

“Ah, you see…” Hamfast rubbed the back of his head in slight discomfort. “Well, you should read the letter to its end I suppose. You’ll see by yourself.”

 

Frowning, Bilbo turned his eyes back into the little piece of parchment resting atop his desk. And indeed towards the end, the Hunters kindly requested that if possible, they would love to meet the librarian of the Shire in person. They proceeded to shortly explain how they had heard so much about the library he ran, and how lovely it would be if they could talk to him face to face. 

 

“Well then.” Bilbo nervously tapped his foot against the floor. “That’s not something you see every day. Who knew my name would be so thoroughly known even across the Brandywine.” 

 

In all honesty he didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the request; especially not after Gandalf’s unsettling visit. But he supposed that he couldn’t blame a bunch of earnest young Hunters over the tricks and mischiefs of some old Wizard. It was impossible for the two events to be related, anyway. Plus, after all of that ruckus with Gandalf, he could use a little walk in the countryside. 

 

“You’ll take it yourself, then?” Hamfast asked as Bilbo secured the straps of the leather bag over his shoulders. The two made towards the door as Bilbo replied.

 

“Yes.” He said. “It’s not that far so I suppose I’ll be back by dinnertime.” He hoped he would. Even if he hadn’t been able to enjoy his lunch, he was looking forward to some proper dinner in his own house. 

 

“That’s good to hear, then. And now if you excuse me, I’m afraid I must be heading back to my field.” Hamfast laughed heartily. “I can only hope my son won’t have plucked down all the radishes already.”

 

Bilbo echoed Hamfast laugh, though not in such a lively manner, as he locked the library’s door and shoved the key back inside his pocket. However, a growing feeling of discomfort was stirring inside of his chest, and he was afraid it was going to last whether he walked to Bree and back or not. 

 

The two Hobbits walked down the picturesque path together, but at some point they were forced to part ways -Hamfast for his field, Bilbo for the rest of the path that would take him to the forest. 

 

The sun was warm and pleasant, but Bilbo found the air surprisingly chilly; almost as if it was late Autumn already, despite it was hardly even August. Throughout his way he couldn’t shake out the uneasy feeling that someone was continuously watching his back -a feeling which became all the more intense when he left the Shire and entered the lush forest. However, no matter how many times he took a glimpse behind his shoulders, he saw no man nor animal; only the birds and the blooming bushes were there to greet him. In the end, Bilbo decided to let it go, and that it was his encounter with Gandalf that was causing him to make all of that up inside his head.

 

He was about halfway through the forest, and would need no more than another half of the hour to reach the Green Dragon, when he heard it; a twig snapping to his left. And the dread that coiled inside his stomach like an asp ready to strike informed him that this time, it wasn’t his imagination. The forest had suddenly gone impossibly still, all birds had ceased their song and not even an ambitious cicada dared break the eerie silence.

  
  


Slowly, with the leather bag and the tome inside it suddenly posing an unbearable weight on his back, Bilbo turned towards the cluster of strawberry bushes on the left side of the grassy path, as a low, menacing growl that wasn’t at all imaginary rippled through the air. 

 

All Bilbo had time to see was a pair of red eyes glowing between the leaves.

 

And then the Warg pounced on him. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After like, forever, I'm updating! I guess the schedule I tried to come up with for all my fics didn't quite work, and I run mostly on impulses anyway so uh... rewatching AUJ with my mom for Christmas helped a little with that, lol.
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter two! We're starting to get on the good stuff I s'ppose, and slowly more characters and more mystery will come in. 
> 
> I don't think I have anything else to say so, enjoy!~

To his credit, Bilbo’s reflexes were one of the factors that served to save his life that fateful day. Despite the idle years he’d spent working as a librarian in the peaceful land of the Shire, his basic Hobbit instincts sent him rolling on the ground before the conscious part of his brain had even registered what was really happening.

 

Even so, the warg’s paws drummed on the mossy earth only a few inches from his head, and the beast was already snapping its massive jaws for him before Bilbo had even managed to regain his bearings. Its hot breath ruffled the Hobbit’s hazel-brown hair, sharp fangs getting hold of the leather bag that was still strapped to his shoulders. Bilbo threw it off of him as fast as he could, praying to Mother Yavanna that it would be distraction enough for the warg as he scurried away towards the closest tree trunk.

 

He didn’t really know what he’d do should he manage to reach it; Hobbits weren’t exactly skilled climbers, and he doubted his hands and feet would work fast enough anyway, what with the panic of the unexpected assault having seized him over completely.

 

The warg must have known, too. It shook its head wildly for a few seconds, the bag and its content swaying from side to side before the leather gave way, and the heavy book landed on the ground with a loud thump. The warg sniffled it over a couple of times before realising its prey lay paralysed only a few feet away, cowering against an overgrown plane tree. Letting out a quiet, satisfied growl over the meal certainly to be had, it stalked towards the shivering little creature that would serve as its prey for the day.

 

Bilbo curled up against the tree, powerless and wishing to be magically transformed into the smallest, most insignificant thing imaginable if that meant the warg would lose interest in him. The beast’s rotting breath stuffed itself up his nostrills and he figured the end must have been nearing. He closed his eyes and waited for those yellowed, razor-sharp fangs to tear about his neck, only praying that it would be as quick and painless as possible.

 

It never happened, however; instead, the bushes out of which the warg had appeared rustled again, a war cry resonating within the clearing. Bilbo opened his eyes just in time to see an ax fly, hitting the warg straight on the head and spraying black, foul blood all over Bilbo. The beast howled as it fell to the ground, limbs thrashing in a frenzy as blood gushed from the crack in its skull. A moment later it went still and silent as a sword, driven by an iron-gloven hand, was plunged clear through its chest.

 

Heart still pounding against his chest, Bilbo managed to lift his eyes up to take a glimpse of his unexpected saviour. As he did, he beheld a stern-faced middle aged-dwarf (the latter he assumed by the height and build of the individual) dressed in heavy furs and leathers, the only pieces of armour visible being the gauntlets in his hands and the chainmail peeking from under his blue cloak. His thick dark hair, lined with a few streaks of silver, fell to his shoulders and was partially decorated with braids and silver beads. An unkempt beard and piercing blue eyes came to complete the look, and Bilbo swallowed hard.

 

A dwarf -not just anyone, but a dwarf _Hunter_. It’s been ages since dwarves had been last scene roaming these lands, the nearest Haven of their kind being miles and miles away to be of any significant importance. For a dwarf to make his appearance now of all times, meant that something was stirring… Bilbo had not a single drop of a Hunter’s instinct in him, but even he could feel the change hanging heavy in the air. As if the wheels of Fate itself were beginning to turn.

 

He wondered if his day could get any more hectic than that.

 

He didn’t have time to consider it, though; those piercing blue eyes locked onto him, and the dwarf’s mouth twitched with displeasure.

 

“Are you unhurt, citizen?” there was no true worry in his gruff voice, but he stretched out his hand to help the Hobbit on his feet nonetheless. An act for which Bilbo was deeply grateful, since he wasn’t at all certain the shock he’d just went through would allow him to stand on his own.

 

“I-um,” his manners, he should not forget about. Dwarf or no, unexpected or no, the Hunter had just saved him from certain death “yes, I think I am -physically, at least. Thank you sir um…?”

 

“Thorin.” the dwarf grumbled under his breath. “You needn’t thank me, I was just doing the job I’ve been trained for.” He didn’t seem all too pleased to be doing it, however, and Bilbo took a reluctant step back and away from the tree he’d been cowering against, suddenly eager to get away from the newcomer, life debt or no.

 

His attention snapped back to his precious book, lying open in the dirt and splattered with twigs, mud and warg blood. Bilbo winced, all too aware there would be little he could do to clean it. One of his most treasured book ending up in such a mess… but at least it hadn’t been rendered unreadable, he supposed. Even if he’d likely have to carry it all the way back to the library without the help of the leather bag, the latter having been torn to little more than shreds.

 

As Bilbo stared at the scraps in light of what could have been his fate too, the dwarf -Thorin- turned to look towards the cluster of bushes out of which he’d leaped before, evidently not poised to give the Hobbit any more of his attention.

 

“Dwalin, Fili.” His voice was deep and steady now that he wasn’t complaining, Bilbo realised. “Come, the beast’s been dealt with.”

 

The Hobbit felt little shock this time, when two more dwarves -both laden with weapons of all kinds to the point of ridicule- emerged from the vegetation. One was tall, burly and muscular, head shaven clean and decorated with tattoos, two axes strapped across his back and a heavy broadsword hanging from his hip. The other appeared to be much younger than his two companions; he bore the same regal gait, blue eyes and crooked nose as Thorin, yet his hair was a rich shade of gold and his eyes glinted with mischief as he flipped a dagger in each gloved hand, a hunting ax and a flat sword strapped to his hips.

 

“Mahal’s Beard, Uncle!” The younger dwarf exclaimed, a fiendish grin lighting up his face as he beheld the downed warg. “All in one hit, huh? Should’ve saved some for us!”

 

“It was hardly a time to wait for your swaggering show-offs in the battlefield, Fili.” Thorin grunted between gritted teeth as he watched Dwalin assess the carcass. “There was a non-combatant at risk. One mistake and he would have been a warg-feast.”

 

Bilbo gulped down the taste of fear that filled his mouth at the reminder of how narrowly he’d escaped. His knees still shook as he held the blasted book close to his chest -as if it could have been used as a shield. The blond dwarf, Fili, turned to look at him, as if noticing him for the first time.

 

“Oh, that must be you, then.” He rose an eyebrow, marching up to the Hobbit and inspecting him closely. “A halfling, huh? That’s one hell of a lucky day for ye, you’d be done and dealt with if we hadn’t been around to help! Uncle sniffed out that warg a mile far!”

 

‘Uncle’, huh… well, Bilbo supposed that made at least partial sense, considering the striking similarities between the two dwarves. Even if that still didn’t answer why or how they’d found themselves wandering around this part of Middle-Earth.

 

“That one’s fur is not too shabby.” The third dwarf -Dwalin, Thorin had called him- mused before Bilbo had time to inquire about their business in the area. “Will make a nice cloak for anyone that’ll take the time to skin it.”

 

“We could take it, bring it to Mother.” Fili beamed. “I bet she’d love it! It’s not often we get a brand-new fur cloak for ourselves lately, is it, Uncle?”

 

Thorin seemed to consider it for a moment, but eventually shook his head.

 

“Time’s not on our side, I’m afraid, and we can’t afford to carry additional weight. As much as I’d like to bring my sister a gift for all the worry she must certainly be going through with both you and your brother gone.” Thorin sighed, crossing his arms against his chest. “We’ll have to leave the corpse as is and go back to the others. This has been a scouting mission, nothing more.”

 

“Fine...” Fili seemed to have been let down, but he picked up the ax and sword still stuck on the warg’s still, bleeding body and handed them back to Thorin. “I suppose if we see this quest through we’ll come across enough of those nasty fursacks to have other chances.”

 

Thorin didn’t grace his nephew with an answer, but nodded his thanks upon receiving his weapons. He sheathed his sword and hanged his ax on his leather belt, before signaling to his companions.

 

“We should go back to the inn -the others will be wondering what is taking us so long.” He ordered, then stalked off towards the path behind the bushes without waiting for an answer. The other two nodded, and made quick work of following their leader’s footsteps.

 

“W-Wait!” Bilbo finally regained his voice then, as he saw his saviours disappearing behind the twigs and branches. Without hesitation, he leapt after them. “You don’t happen to be going to the Green Dragon inn, do you?”

 

Thorin grunted again, apparently not too eager to make small talk with what he deemed to be nothing more than a citizen in need of saving, but Fili seemed to have a different opinion on the matter.

 

“That would be it, yes.” He replied willingly, slowing down his pace enough for the short-legged Hobbit to be able to catch up. “The rest of our company is waiting for us there. You know the place?”

 

“That I do.” Bilbo said, adjusting his arms around the heavy book as best as he could while looking up at the dwarf. “I was tasked with bringing this book there. Apparently some novice Hunters staying in the inn need it for an assignment.”

 

“Huh? Novice Hunters, you say?” Fili seemed confused, bushy blond brows arching up. “I don’t think there were any of those staying at the inn when we left, were there, Dwalin?”

 

The fierce-looking dwarf shook his bald head in what Bilbo could only assume was a negative answer, which only served to confuse him further still. If there were no Hunters, who had sent the letter that had been so specifically addressed to him? Could it have been a simple prank, or even a mistake, despite his name being crystal clear on the parchment? And with the warg that had attacked him despite the services of the nearby Haven, it could hardly be considered a mere coincidence…

 

Fili must have beheld his lost expression, because he clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly throwing him off-balance at the process. “Well, you should come with us regardless -in case more wargs come charging out of nowhere.”

 

“Fili...” Thorin’s voice sounded tired yet somehow resigned, as if he’d gotten used to his nephew’s antics.

 

“C’mon, uncle, we’re heading for the Shire anyway, correct? We could use a guide! Plus, we may have just missed the Hunters you,” he turned to Bilbo at that “are looking for. It’s a win on both sides if you ask me.”

 

“That’s why nobody ever asks you, laddie.” Dwalin muttered under his admittedly impressive beard, and this time not even Thorin could stifle a breathy chuckle. Fili grinned too, twirling a dagger in one hand and trying to come up with an equally witty retort to Dwalin’s comment.

 

Bilbo couldn’t shake off the uneasy, dark feeling, though, no matter what Fili had said. He figured he should see for himself whether or not the Hunrers behind the letter were actually in the inn, but the closer they got to it, the more he became certain he would find no one but the rest of the dwarves Thorin spoke about. Maybe a few other travelers and patrons as well, but definitely not the ones behind the mysterious letter. And what business did those dwarves had, traveling to the Shire, anyway…? He could make no sense out of any of these.

 

As they walked, the book that bore the history of the life he knew within its yellowed pages became a solid, grim weight in Bilbo’s arms.

 

Somehow, he could feel the cogs of Fate clattering and turning -a feeling that he just now realised had settled on him from the moment the mysterious wizard clad in gray had crossed his library’s doorstep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finishing 2018 with a brand-new chapter (both for me, the author, and for y'all, the readers) should be a sign of good luck! I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter, but I hope you liked this one! Please feel free to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it, or if you have anything to point out!
> 
> Here's to a beautiful 2019!~

**Author's Note:**

> So, how was it so far? Ready for things to get weird and intense real fast? I should definitely hope so!~ 
> 
> I know there will probably be some mistakes here and there; English is not my native language, but I'm doing my best. Hopefully I'll also be able to find someone to beta my Hobbit project!~
> 
> Thank you for reading so far, and if you'd like, feel free to hit that kudos button or leave a comment. It's the best writer-fuel, to my knowledge! ^w^


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